


And the Crow Flies with the Nightingale

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Knives don't belong in bed, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26190586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Who would have more in common than a former bard and a former Crow?Who would have less in common than the Left Hand of the Divine and a current Crow?Somehow, that hasn't stopped two birds from flying together.Thank you Ericine for a wonderful prompt and a pairing I'd not considered before - this was a blast to write. I'd also like to thank well-this-is-hawkeward for betaing! This was one of many fics written for this year's Black Emporium rare pair exchange - I encourage you to read the rest!
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Leliana
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	And the Crow Flies with the Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ericine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ericine/gifts).



The air was different in the rookery tonight, and Sir Plucky was far too quiet.  _ Someone has fed him something to make him docile.  _ In an instant, a thin blade was in Leliana’s hand as her eyes scanned the familiar shadows. No one entered her space without reason, especially after the disaster with Rainier.

“I suggest you leave,” she said quietly, menace carried by the oiled smoothness in her tone. “Otherwise, things will go poorly for you.”

No one in the shrine, one candle lit. The shadows beneath her table were no darker than they should be, and the cages swung their own pools of blackness as her ravens shifted in the night. The light from Solas and the library below added its own set of shadows and umber glow. Were it not for Sir Plucky, she might have thought she’d merely left an extra window open.

Hands along her arms made her jump, her head already jabbing backward to break the assailant’s nose as his - it was a he, she was sure of it - grasped her wrists firmly. “So, Amore? Such a harsh greeting for me? I’m hurt.”

Leliana swallowed her heart as the accent registered. It returned to her chest as it raced at the breath against her ear. Antivan, and that name?

“Zevran, you startled me!”

“So I see.” Hands that had restrained now caressed her arms, sliding the dagger from her slack fingers. It clicked against the railing in the center of the rookery. “I hadn’t wanted any official notice, but after your expert assistance, I thought a  _ personal  _ thanks would be in order. The Crows were less than pleased with my actions. Again.”

He knew her far too well. In the darkness, it was easier for her to rest against his muscled chest, to accept the comfort of arms that had spent even longer washed in blood than her own. In the darkness, she could be Leliana, the woman who questioned, who had earned the name ‘Nightingale’ for beautiful songs having much more to do with silk sheets than frightening elegance on feathered wings.

“Surely the assistance wasn’t necessary.” She shivered as Zevran’s lips left whispered caresses along the outside of her ear and trailed along her neck as she tipped her head in invitation. “You are more than capable of handling the Crows.”

His fingers entwined with hers. “Perhaps, but if it was not necessary, I would have no reason to thank you personally. Therefore, it was necessary and I am here.” His voice changed with his usual suppleness. “My Nightingale, it has been a terrible time for you. How could I not come to your side?”

They’d been parted for several months, after a private goodbye before he boarded Isabela’s  _ Siren’s Call  _ to return to Antiva for his business, and she to Haven for Justinia’s Conclave. Leliana’s heart ached with all the tears she’d not let herself shed since, walled off by duty and the threats she fought against. She shook her head and turned in Zevran’s arms. Eyes the same amber as the lamplight reflected against stone met her own, searching for the woman she hid from all but her closest confidants.

“As you wish,” he murmured as their lips met. He didn’t ask - despite all her probing questions, he had always given her the courtesy of her own thoughts, her own timing. His tenderness released the dams and the honeyed sweetness of his kiss, she salted with grief. Here in his arms, she could let another’s arms hold her up, could release the burdens of wet knives in the dark and rumors whispered in empty halls. Their tongues danced in the moonlight and it was  _ good. _

The first storm passed long enough for her to pull back and shirts to land in a heap atop her reports, for the cornucopia of blades to join them more carefully, for her to take his hand back and pull him toward a cot not truly large enough for two, but more than enough for  _ now.  _ On cat’s feet, he followed her, and they kissed again. This time there was more than longing, love, and sorrow. Desire rose high as they let themselves have each other for this one, secret moment.

After, Leliana watched her fingers comb through his hair. “Was it truly so terrible?”

“Ah,” he chuckled, “it was embarrassment more than anything else. I had hoped to intercept your message before the other Crows received it. They wished to settle a score. I settled it first. The ship, I took to gaze on your beauty.”

“I feel so lost,” she admitted unprompted. “I cannot see the Maker’s light - all is in shadow.”

Zevran propped himself on one elbow, taking his head from where it rested on her chest. “It was you who reminded me years ago that shadows require light to be seen, my Nightingale, and that darkness makes some songs all the sweeter. Now, it is my turn. Your Inquisition has brought hope to those who had feared this war for years, even as a new foe tears the sky itself apart. Antiva sent more than your friend, no? They sent no help for the Blight unless you count one failed assassin turned valiant warrior to stand at your side.”

The words landed like rain, and the withered, dry part of her soul drank them.  _ Though all about me is shadow, still your light remains.  _ Though Zevran hid it more than she, his faith was as constant as his humor - or his tenderness.

Leliana traced the lines of his tattoos on the side of his face, then the ones she knew just as well, even though his shirt covered them. “Have I said how much I love you, my Crow?”

“Said? No. Demonstrated?” For all his jaunty tone, his face was soft as he kissed the corners of her eyes. “Yes, Amore. A thousand times yes.”

Her own, private light lay his head back on her chest and she felt their hearts match in tempo.  _ You, Zevran, are among the lights in my darkness. Maker, thank you for bringing him to my side now.  _ Eyes drifting shut, she slept with an ease she hadn’t known since the sky tore.


End file.
